


Misc and Miscibility

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:10:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair contemplates a few -things as he waits for his ride home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misc and Miscibility

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Derora for insightful beta reading and for her repeated complaints about the title. Hey, _I_ know what it means, and it's in the dictionary. So what if it's not a typical Scrabble word? 
> 
> Feedback: Anything from 'smoogie' to 'blowtorch' welcome. And let me know if you want to see those missing scenes. 

## Misc and Miscibility

by Smaragd Gruen

Author's webpage: <http://www.greencraft.com/snakepit>

Author's disclaimer: Abject apologies to Jane Austen.

* * *

Misc and Miscibility  
by Smaragd Gruen

mis ci bil i ty (''mi-s&-'bi-l&-tE) [noun] The capability of being mixed. Specifically, the capability of mixing in any ratio without separation into distinct phases. (oil and water are immiscible liquids) 

* * *

Blair glanced up at the clock and couldn't help but groan. He slowly let his head fall back, looking to the ceiling for guidance. With an impatient sigh, he wondered how other people found time to do all the things that had to fit into a day. He sure couldn't manage it very often.

Struggling out of his seat, he stretched his arms as he walked down the hall to the copier. He knew it was a far better decision to read these last few pages at home later than to keep Jim-the-Ridemeister waiting. As he watched the green lights flash beneath the thick book, he idly wondered which Jim he'd find in the truck today. Hmm, that was funny. When had he started thinking of Jim as separate people? Of course, he was always _Jim_ , but, well... Jim was a pretty complex guy, and sometimes, Blair found himself putting labels on his different faces.

Today, it would probably be Jim-the-Partner, always instantly recognizable to Blair. This was Jim in cop mode, gathering information, detecting motives, solving crimes. Even though Blair didn't have experience in criminal justice, he had become very proficient at being the other half of Jim-the-Partner, and not just helping with Jim's Sentinel senses. They made a great team -- Jim easily acknowledged it from the start, most people knew it soon after that, and even Simon had told him his contribution was valuable. Over the last year, Blair had gained a deep sense of purpose in his life because of the difference they made together, which he always tried to remember when he risked that life doing something important for Jim-the-Partner. 

Danger aside, though, Blair was very comfortable with Jim-the-Partner. It was how the two of them had started out, and their relationship had built to its current level of trust quickly. Over an amazingly brief period of time, they'd learned to depend on each other, protect each other, even had, on occasion, found ways to use each other's unique skills to get the job done. As Blair stuffed his pack full of books and papers and electronics, he reasoned it was exactly the kind of strong foundation that was the ideal place to build a friendship. Of course, the friend-thing for them had taken somewhat longer to happen, but was gradually becoming as big a piece of their lives as the partner-thing was. 

So it might not be Jim-the-Partner today, it could be Jim-the-Friend greeting him as he climbed into the truck. Jim-the-Friend with a grin and an offer of something interesting that they could do together tonight. Or maybe on the weekend, Blair thought, mentally reviewing his calendar. He was always up for whatever Jim had in mind, and Jim never let him down. 

Seriously, who would've thought? He stifled a laugh, remembering that even the two of them had been 100% clueless. Geez, closer to _200%_. In his wildest dreams, he would never have picked a guy like James Ellison as his best friend. On the surface, they were as different as two people could be, but even on the first day they'd met, he had felt a deeper connection. And not long after that, they'd discovered they were surprisingly compatible when it came to their values and beliefs. But even more, they found they liked to spend their spare time together, that they had a lot of common interests -- simple things, things like lending a hand now and again, or basketball, or camping. 

Hmm, they hadn't been camping for awhile, neither of them a big fan of sleeping in snow. He glanced out the window at the typical Cascade spring day as he closed the door to the reading room. Perfect, really, just warm enough for them, but not for too many other people, so they would have the great outdoors all to themselves. He couldn't imagine anything he'd rather do than get out there and be, well... just be with Jim. 

Tripping down the stairs, he found himself half hoping it would be Jim-the-Friend rather than Jim-the-Partner in the truck. Hey, he wasn't playing favorites, he rationalized, it was just that Jim-the-Partner tended to be very serious, _very_ focused, and usually arrived bearing bad news. Blair knew in an intellectual sense that Jim-the-Partner was necessary, was _integral_ , that Jim wouldn't be Jim without that part. Really, he respected that part of Jim a lot. And he knew the satisfaction they both got from getting the bad guys was an overwhelming payoff for the injuries and the pain and the _stress_ of the job. 

But on an emotional level, he liked Jim-the-Friend a lot more than Jim-the-Partner. And he _really_ liked being surprised by Jim-the-Friend when he expected to see Jim-the-Partner. 

Then it struck him that there was a third possibility now. It could be Jim-the-Lover who met him today. This thought stopped him in his tracks for an instant. Unlikely, yeah, but possible nonetheless. He started moving again, thinking, oh, wouldn't that be a treat? To climb into the truck, raise his head, and see Jim with that intense look he got in his eyes when he was aroused. To hear that low growl from Jim's throat as he reached for Blair. To feel--ah, don't go down that road, Blairman, 'cause he'll be here any minute and he'll _know_ what you've been thinking, and if it's not Jim-the-Lover, then -- well, it probably wouldn't be, not today. 

He pushed through the front door of the building, thinking how different Jim-the-Lover was from the other two. He was the part of Jim Blair knew the least well, the newest pole in the tent, so to speak, and Blair chuckled out loud at the thought. Jim-the-Lover had appeared on the scene a couple of months back. Blair blushed at the memory as it appeared behind his eyes. Blair had stumbled, bleary-eyed, into the bathroom one morning as Jim was wrapping a towel around his hips, and he had been unable to tear his gaze away. When he'd finally looked up after studying an eternity of taut skin and hard muscle and the dictionary definition of well-hung, he'd been surprised to see a mild question in his roommate's piercing eyes. He took only a moment to register the tentative offer, then had returned it with an encouraging shrug and an enthusiastic 'I-won't-say-no-to- _that_ '.

Jim had smiled, easily stepping back into the shower and inviting Blair to join him. And then proceeded to make Blair feel both the cleanest and the dirtiest he'd been in a long time. It was a good kind of dirty, though, the kind he needed to be because he was not, hadn't ever been, and couldn't possibly ever be the kind of person who would turn down an offer like that, no matter what anyone might think, as long as the people involved wanted it at that moment. Life was simply too short, and he had wanted it _bigtime_ , no question. And for Jim, well, if the noises Jim-the-Lover had made were any indication, he had been listening to the very same drumbeat Blair had heard that morning. 

Since then, the sex-thing had continued, surprising him, a little. Blair wasn't exactly sure what he _had_ expected. Well, he supposed he hadn't really let himself think about it, just did it. Did whatever felt right at the time, and it had worked out. Their... encounters was probably the best word for them... their _encounters_ had gradually increased in frequency, but had somehow stayed casual, and easy, and comfortable, really. They had both initiated things, and so far, neither of them had been turned down. It was a 'I'm-horny-if-you-are'-thing. 

But it wasn't something they discussed, which kept it safely walled-off from the other parts of their lives, the partner-thing and the friend-thing. Blair didn't have a problem keeping the three separate, and neither did Jim, apparently. 

It had been useful, though, he mused, every once in a while, when they let the friend-thing slide into the partner-thing. It actually made the partnership work a little better, helped their communication or something. Like when they hung out together, drinking a beer or watching a game, idly talking about a case, that was when they seemed to figure the puzzles out, when they made some of their best decisions. 

It was even more interesting when they'd let the friend-thing slip into the lover-thing. Oh _god_ , that had been hot, a couple of weeks ago, while they were watching television on a lazy Sunday morning. Jim had looked over at him from the home improvement show they were both zoning on, asking what he thought about a new skylight. Blair had been surprised, suddenly awake, telling him this was an open loft and he wanted to work on the _roof_ , was he nuts, didn't he realize there were no load-bearing members? Then -- out of the goddamned blue -- Jim had started grinning like a teenager and had pulled his sweatpants down to reveal his erection, saying, "Well, what about _this_ member?" 

Blair had only been stunned for a moment, his wide-eyed gaze caught between that big, juicy cock and the silly look on Jim-the-Lover's face before he grinned back, saying, "You _stud_ , you," as he slid down to the floor and swallowed Jim's cock. It had been as much pure fun as sex, sprinkled with several lewd references to 'hand tools', playful threats from Jim to 'nail him to the floorboards', and a few very loud demands from Blair for 'more power'. 

Blair snickered to himself, remembering how they'd laughed afterward that this improved their home far more than any skylight ever could have. Of course, it wasn't always like that, the lover-thing was usually pretty focused. Oh, yeah. Blair felt a tingle as he reflected on some of the more _personally_ beneficial aspects of Sentinel senses. Definitely an enhancement. And definitely not just for Jim. 

Man! Sometimes it seemed he only had to _think_ about what might feel good, and Jim provided it, in _spades_. It was like they had some sort of telepathy-thing going. And on the other side, Jim's reaction to his every touch was so incredibly _sensual_. Of course, Blair knew it was probably because _any_ touch on Sentinel skin would be amazingly arousing in the dark, under the covers, hot kisses inflaming their blood. He guessed it was the fact that Jim let him get that close, let him _in_ , that was what made it so profound, so intense. 

He stopped, leaning against the building for a moment, remembering the time when Jim had simply kept still, trembling, as Blair caressed his skin, alternating soft touches with firm, fingertips with fingernails, moving in circles and then in long, slow strokes. All in complete, utter silence until Jim had suddenly exploded in orgasm, his low wail making Blair's blood run like hot lava. Absolutely non-verbal and so fulfilling and all-encompassing he couldn't imagine life without it. 

But it _was_ weird. Not Jim being silent, that was all but ingrained in the man. But Blair? Mr 'if-I-can't-verbalize-it-isn't-happening'? But, yeah. It wasn't that they didn't talk during sex, just that they did it for different reasons, now. Words weren't needed for requests, or directions, they were -- they were sort of an affirmation now, a reward they gave to one another. Truthfully, the whole experience was something so much more than sex, he really didn't know how to describe it. Sometimes it was a definite advantage that he didn't have anyone he could talk to about this, he would _never_ find the words to explain what they had.

Right, he smiled, imagine explaining it to -- well, to anyone. The art of making love to a Sentinel. A very delicate art, one in which he wanted to immerse himself, but sometimes -- damn, he wished it were a science. Their control of the whole senses-thing was still a huge issue, probably always would be, but they were working on it. Jim still zoned on occasion, but more often, the sensations sent him into a panic because he wouldn't, or couldn't shut down when he got close.

Blair really needed to make up that test matrix. Even Jim was kind of looking forward to that. Another difference that Jim-the-Lover had from the other two: Jim-the-Lover actually _liked_ testing his senses, and Blair had to admit that he was sometimes less than objective when they ran these kinds of tests. Okay, forget objective. At least he took notes. Sometimes. 

And the results, sketchy as they were, had been surprisingly helpful for both of them. Jim, to learn new ways to maintain control under an overwhelming stimulus, and Blair, just to _understand_. He hadn't used any of that data in the dissertation, of course, but he'd used what he learned from Jim-the-Lover to interpret other phenomena, reactions that Jim-the-Partner had, and things that Jim-the-Friend experienced. 

He thought for a minute about the shape of the Venn diagram he was constructing here. The circles were not so separate anymore, and the narrow shaded spaces where they overlapped were useful, interesting, even fun, like when they let the friend-thing slide into the partner-thing and into the lover-thing. But there was one particular crescent that made him extremely uncomfortable. More than uncomfortable, he admitted, if he let himself think about it. It was when they let the lover-thing overlap the partner-thing. 

This overlap was a little more complicated than the others. It wasn't what most people would think, that they would make some bad decision or act really dumb in a firefight to defend one another. No, they'd always protected each other, which might have appeared overboard to _some_ people, but they'd never been stupid about it, just pushed the envelope at times. Most people didn't know how big their envelope was, that was all. 

No, the really, really dangerous slide was when they let the job into _bed_. When they crossed the line between fuck-buddy and something else, something risky. That kind of diffusion absolutely scared him silly. It had hit him hard a few nights ago when he had crawled into bed with Jim, just like he'd done so many times before, but instead of meeting each other in the middle of the mattress in a passionate clinch, eager to enjoy each other's bodies, they'd just clung to one another, needing the comfort of holding another human, of knowing someone cared, that someone was there, and would be there, no matter how tough things got outside where the bad guys were. 

He woke the next morning still in the big bed upstairs, wrapped in Jim's arms, and even then, they hadn't felt the urge to do the sex-thing. One tender kiss, and Blair had left to get in an early shower. Once there, he'd stood still, letting the spray run as hot as he could stand for just a minute, needing some sort of sensory assault to jolt him back into friend mode. Dangerous, that was definitely the right word for it. 

Blair looked up, rounding the corner of the building, thanking his free-wheeling youth for one of his most useful skills -- the ability to ignore danger when it wasn't immediately in his face. So, danger tucked safely into a distant corner of his mind, he thought this whole friend-thing / partner-thing / lover-thing was pretty cool. Powerful, even. Enabling in kind of a complimentary way to their Sentinel/Guide thing. The senses-thing was there all the time -- overlaying, or maybe _underpinning_ their existence. On he job, hanging out, even in bed. And now this relationship-thing was there, too. 

He stopped as he reached the bench at the corner of the parking lot. Blair glanced at his pager, noticing he was a few minutes late. Luckily, for once, Jim was, too. More often than not, Jim was waiting out here, letting him know _exactly_ how late he was, how many timepieces he had on his person, and how punctuality was next to fucking _godliness_. Those were the times he wondered how a person could function with an anal-retentive disorder the size of Vancouver Island. Times when Blair was sure just one more word would blast him away from all of his Jims forever. 

But those thoughts were rare these days. Most times he felt as though he rested comfortably among them, sensing their support like the foundation of a well-built house, nestling in the darkened triangle of their intersection. It was when he was feeling that deep-seated security that he wondered, sometimes, what might happen if someday, somehow, all the parts of their lives might diffuse together. They had all the pieces, they both knew that, and lately, the blurring was happening more and more often. It was getting obvious to him, which meant Jim was sure to be seeing it, too. Hell, most of their friends had probably noticed. But for now, they were fundamentally separate but equal, three immiscible liquids floating atop one another in a glass, waiting for some sort of activation event to send them swirling together. 

He looked up, vaguely imagining a giant swizzle stick descending into their lives, and caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Blair brightened as he saw Jim's truck approaching, finally. He strained to see the driver, wondering again which Jim it would be today.

Then he blinked, suddenly realizing it didn't matter in the least. 

~end~

June 1999 

* * *

End Misc and Miscibility. 

 


End file.
